16 March 2010 @ 03:15 am
King For A Day, part 5/?  
Title: King For A Day, part 5/?
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Shosanna/Fredrick, Edwige Molyneux, Simone Simoneaux, Marcel, mentions of Ada Mimieux, the Dreyfus family and the Zoller sisters.
Rating: R
Word count: 7,344
Summary: New wounds are healed and old wounds are re-opened.
Warnings: First, yes, another OC; name taken from Simone Signoret. Getting to this point and writing the closure between Shosanna and Marcel, along with the conflict between Shosanna and Fredrick has been difficult, but it had to be done for the sake of the characters and the story. I initially thought of dividing this section in half, but with all that will happen next, I decided not to. Also, aside from Un Amico, this could also be their love-theme, y/y?

The story so far: | information/cast post | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 |

Shosanna and Fredrick found themselves on the third floor of Le Rossignol; it was an attic room, which served as Edwige's quarters. It was open, spacious, and decorated with a plethora of charming knick-knacks, antique furniture, and other eccentric pieces; a lifetime of memories confined to a single room. Up here, the three of them - inn proprietor, Jewish Girl and German War Hero - were safely out of sight of prying eyes.

Upon entering her room, Edwige ushered the two to a small, oval table, decorated with a fine lace tablecloth, with a vase at its center, holding a bright array of flowers; there, all three were seated. Beside the table next to Edwige, was a metal serving cart which held a tea pot, two covered dishes, a bowl of strawberries, and porcelain dining ware.

Beaming at the young couple, she began to set the table in front of them. Uncertain of the woman's intentions and without a word, Shosanna and Fredrick looked on.

"Oh, you must forgive me," Edwige insisted cheerily as she poured them tea, "you see, I hardly ever entertain guests anymore, and certainly not here. It's been ages, but I could not resist such an occasion."

Shosanna, her body tensing up, gave the woman a strained smile and Fredrick, grasping at his hands underneath the table, averted eye contact. Despite Edwige's now warm demeanor, they were not yet quick to trust her. Even as she generously covered their plates with croissants, finger sandwiches, and fresh fruit, and even as she went on with her one-sided small-talk - smiling brightly all the while - Shosanna and Fredrick remained silent.

Reaching for the metal serving tongs with one hand, and her other now holding a bowl of sugar cubes, the two were given no other option but to acknowledge Edwige as she asked,

"How many?"

It was a simple question, and not at all sinister, yet it made Shosanna as uneasy as being offered strudel. It didn't take much, however, to remind Shosanna that she was no longer fending for her just herself, as she had Fredrick now to consider. Clearing her throat, smile still in place, Shosanna answered,


Pleased with this - and herself - Edwige complied. Directing her attention to Fredrick, the young man spoke up,


Smirking playfully as she dropped the sugar cubes into his cup,

"You like a little tea with your sugar?"

Relaxing a little, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly, he gave a small shrug.

Easing back into her chair, Edwige tended to her own tea, observing the two as she did so. Their interactions intrigued her from the moment they stepped foot in Le Rossignol; it was the way in which they carried themselves around each other, the way the young man looked upon the young woman with complete reverence; with love. Though the young woman attempted to mask it, it was clear to Edwige that she felt the same for him. Most of all, there was a mutual trust, a protectiveness between them. And of course, there was the embrace the two were locked in that Edwige had interrupted; it spoke volumes to her.

There was something so insular about the two of them; when around each other, there was nothing else, no one else. Looking on, Edwige watched as Shosanna offered Fredrick a small smile. Returning it, he reached his hand over to brush a loose strand of hair out of her face, allowing his hand to come to a rest on her shoulder - very briefly - before smiling shyly and stirring his tea. There was such an ease, a solace there; she felt like an intruder coming upon the most intimate of moments, and Edwige knew that getting to the bottom of this situation would take a delicate hand. But alas, there was not enough time for that.

Bringing the teacup to her lips, the older woman mused aloud,

"So the little Nazi War Hero has a heart of gold after all."

A pall of silence fell over the table.

Neither the young man nor the young woman even endeavored to keep up appearances. Fredrick's face fell, and his shoulders slumped as he absolutely withered; withdrawing into himself, he pulled away from Shosanna. In response, Shosanna's posture stiffened; squaring her shoulders, she held her head high, and clenching her jaw, she met Edwige's line of sight. Taking a sip of tea, the older woman placed the cup back to the saucer.

The younger woman's large, green eyes were even wider and glistening, her hands on the table were balled tightly into fists; her knuckles turning white. Edwige brought her elbows to the table and rested her chin on her now clasped hands, a thoughtful look on her face. After a few more moments of uncomfortable stillness, she finally broke through it, her voice calm and flat,

"I will have you two know that I am not a cruel woman. However, I must inform you, young man - "

Edwige gave pause, allowing him to compose himself.

Fredrick straightened and raised his face to meet hers, but not before glancing over at Shosanna, who had now taken his hand into her own on the table, interlacing their fingers.

"- this young woman, though we do not share the same faith, we share the same country; the same country which you and your fellow countrymen have subjugated for over five years."

Sitting up, Edwige brought her hands to rest in her lap before further explaining herself,

"But, that was all brought to an end last night, unwittingly because of you, this young woman, Shosanna Dreyfus, and thanks in large part, to a covert operation plotted and carried out by our Allies."

Allowing for this to sink in, Edwige took another sip of her tea, as Shosanna and Fredrick looked on in near disbelief. She had been nothing but curt and vague with them previously; now the two of them wanted nothing more than for Edwige to continue.

Sitting back, she brought a hand to her chin in contemplation,

"The first go-around, you'd have thought we had all learned our lesson…"

Voice trailing off, Edwige noticeably softened as she turned to face a portrait hanging on the wall opposite them; it was of a young man, with the same golden hair, steely eyes, and fair features.

"…1.4 million dead. The War to Preserve Civilisation, they called it."

Looking away from the portrait, Edwige snorted. Bringing her concentration back to the young couple, she pressed on, voice wavering,

"Raoul. My brother. He was my brother. He was wounded terribly; injured his hip, walked with a limp. He was in constant, excruciating pain. Nothing, not even the medals he was awarded, could dull it. He killed himself, not long after returning home."

Edwige then closed her eyes, taking a moment to gather herself. Looking to Shosanna and Fredrick once more, they could see her eyes tearing up; she made no effort to hide it.

"And that was just the physical pain. His nights were plagued with horrific dreams, visions. To hear him sobbing was heart-wrenching, as there was nothing, nothing we could do to ease his suffering."

A small shudder of recognition passed through Fredrick, causing him to swallow hard; noticing this, Shosanna gave his hand a re-assuring squeeze. Taking note of their exchange, Edwige gave a nod of her head, her voice hardening,

"You've seen the war memorials littered throughout the country. You know the devastation. We shall forever be living in the shadows of war, if we keep on murdering our children."

Edwige then sighed.

"You two aren't the only young couple I know of trying to survive this, as unfortunate as that is for me to say."

Shosanna's brows knitted together, her expression quizzical. Shrugging, and with grin, Edwige perked up,

"You see, I work with the Resistance. Le Rossignol serves as a meeting place for their liaisons, a conduit of information. As a woman of my age, I do everything in my power to see to it that history does not repeat itself."

Shosanna went slack.

Edwige could not help but laugh.

"My dear, the Underground is currently quite aware, and details are passing through as soon as they're available. You are a heroine; a tragic heroine, but a heroine nonetheless. But of course, to them, you're also dead."

Picking up a strawberry, she took a bite before going on.

"It would be in your best interest to remain that way - "

Stopping, Edwige looked to Fredrick,

"- especially you. Though I can see you're just like any other young man caught in the crossfire, to them, you are a war criminal, a menace. And if they find you, they will not hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes."

Leaning over to Fredrick, Shosanna whispered to him, soothing the young man with comforting words and actions as she gripped his hand even tighter and brushed her lips against his cheek.

She was nearly hesitant, but Edwige had to keep on,

"And you, Shosanna, if they knew you were with him, they too, would not hesitate to punish you. They would so easily forget your hand in ending the war, for, as they would see it, aiding the enemy. I am afraid to say that you are both a danger to each other."

Fredrick now wrapped an arm around Shosanna and kissed the top of her head. His expression was stoic, but his eyes were welling up; Fredrick was terrified.

Seeking to defuse any panic, Edwige interjected,

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend, which I find agreeable with you, Fredrick. I want you both to know that I am your ally. Allow me to help you, and I will see to it that you get out of here alive."

Stunned, Fredrick and Shosanna could barely speak. She looked to him, and wordlessly, he gave his consent. Turning to Edwige, Shosanna fervently nodded her head forcing out an excitable,


Smiling broadly, Edwige clapped her hands together.

"Excellent. Now, I hate to act like a mother, but shall we now enjoy our meal? I don't want any of this going to waste."

They finished eating in near silence, yet the mood was not disagreeable; having run on nothing but adrenaline through most of the previous evening, Shosanna and Fredrick had almost forgotten how hungry they were. Edwige could have been annoyed with herself for accommodating yet another pair of war-torn lovers, but as she watched them, a smile came to her lips.


Shosanna ran her hands over the skirt of the dress as she assessed her appearance in the full length mirror in the corner of the room. Fredrick stood to the side, leaning against a dresser, his arms crossed over his chest.

"You look beautiful."

The dress was one of Genvieve's, which Edwige chose from a rack of clothes neither sister wore too often. It was a light green, with a floral pattern comprised of complementary colors with short sleeves, a scoop neck, and it belted at the waist. The skirt of it came down to the middle of Shosanna's calves - Genevieve was quite a bit taller than her - but the cut of the dress clung to her in all of the right places, and the shades of green, golds, and pale blues were extremely flattering to Shosanna's coloring. To complete the look, Edwige even gave her a pair of hand-crafted sandals with a low heel. Sliding her hands into the pockets on the skirt, Shosanna tilted her head to the side, her eyes carefully on her reflection.

"I could be wearing a potato-sack and you'd tell me the same exact thing," she commented sardonically.

"Oui," Fredrick confirmed, beaming, "I would."

Facing him sideways, Shosanna smiled back,

"If only I could say the same for you."

In reply, he scrunched his nose in disapproval as Shosanna laughed at him.


Catching herself for a moment, Shosanna came to a surprised halt. Her eyes now on Fredrick, they regarded each other with amazement, as this was the first he had heard such a sound from her; it was musical and throaty, and he wanted more of it. Reacting to his expression, she could not hold back her peals of laughter, and neither could he; it was spontaneous, it was genuine, and it felt wonderful.

As their reverie died down and their bodies relaxed, the two looked upon each other with a renewed vigor, an entirely new perspective. Collecting himself, Fredrick approached Shosanna and slipped his hand beneath her chin and tipped her head up, causing a grin to spread across her face. Entirely focused on one another and the atmosphere growing electric, Fredrick ran the pad of his thumb over her lower lip; he was enamored with her mouth, her lips, and the sensuousness of them.

It was short-lived, as yet again, Edwige cut in.

"I apologize, my dears, but you'll both have enough time to do what you please to each other soon enough. First comes business, then the pleasure."

Placing her hands on her hips and running her eyes over Shosanna, Edwige smiled approvingly, but not without correcting a minor detail. Grasping the young woman by the shoulders, the inn proprietor spun her around and plucked out the hairpins, freeing a cascade of soft, golden curls which spilled over Shosanna's shoulders and magnificently framed her face. Edwige then took her by the hand and led her to a dressing screen, which she covered with a white sheet. Positioning a stool in front of it, she then put her hands on Shosanna's shoulders, forcing her to sit down. Satisfied, Edwige retrieved a camera, a 1939 Argus C3.

"We have quite a bit of history between us - this camera and I - and not once has it ever let me down," she explained.

Taking her position in front of the young woman, Edwige then began to give her instructions.

"Now, sit up straight, shoulders back, and smile - "

Out of the corner of her eye, Shosanna could see Fredrick smiling back at her. That damned smile of his had proved to be rather infectious.

" - but not too widely. These are for your identification papers, and no one is ever that thrilled."


After getting the desired photographs of the two, Edwige handed Shosanna the roll of 35 mm film, along with hand-written instructions, a hand-drawn map of her destination, and a bit of money.

"All you have to do is follow the directions I wrote out for you," Edwige advised, "your destination isn't hard to find; you're a clever girl, you can figure it out. As for the other instructions, there's no need to read them, they're for Simone, along with the roll of film and money."

Shosanna gave a sidelong glance, her expression wary.

"Simone," Edwige clarified, "is one of my allies. She's part of a group, much like the Resistance; you'll know who she is when you see her. Tell her Molyneux and then hand her the film and money. She'll take care of the rest."

Nodding in compliance, Shosanna pocketed the items. But before she could take her leave, Edwige added,

"And if Simone doesn't find the amount enclosed sufficient, do inform her that I will pay her more once I am able to procure more funds. This line of work doesn't come cheap and she understands that."

Concerned, Fredrick broke in,

"Madame? If this can be of any help - "

Pausing, he removed his wristwatch and handed it to Edwige,

" - then please, take this."

Even with just a glimpse, she was able to easily determine its worth.

"Oui. It is an exquisite piece of craftsmanship; it will indeed be of great help. Merci, Fredrick."

Shosanna, taken aback by his selflessness,


His manner now serious,

"I have to, Shosanna. For us both."

Sensing the shift in mood, Edwige excused herself, leaving the couple to themselves; they barely noticed her absence as their conversation carried on,

"After everything we've been through, neither of us can afford to compromise."

There was a note of desperation in Fredrick's voice.

Shosanna was understanding of this, but it was obvious from the look on her face that she had more questions on her mind; he knew what she was thinking.

"That watch," his voice quiet, "was a present from my sisters."

She appeared apologetic, but Fredrick understood why she would think otherwise; after all, so much else was handed to him on a silver platter, so what was one wristwatch, but another trinket? Before Shosanna could say anything, he reached into his pocket, pulling out what little money he had, and placed it in her hands.

"Use this for whatever you deem necessary."

Shosanna was clearly confused.

"But I thought that - "

She stopped herself; it seemed that Fredrick could be just as clever as she was.

Taking her face in his hands, Fredrick pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Come back safe," he murmured against her.

Looking up at him, Shosanna smiled.

"I have to, Fredrick. For us both."

Then, ever so lightly, she kissed him; softly, staggeringly.


There was a certain tension that could be felt. It was not stifling, nor did it hold the promise of violence; it was a mix of restrained excitement and ambiguity. The citizens of France were eagerly returning to the routine of their lives - a return to normalcy - yet there was expectancy, the anticipation of something more. Resistance members were now more visible, out on the streets, grouped together at cafes, outside storefronts; all were armed, all were on guard. Shosanna forged ahead, posture rigid, hands in pockets, with her face blank and eyes lowered, she was mindful not to make eye-contact with passerby as she carefully sidestepped them. To all the world, Shosanna Dreyfus was dead; life went on, as best it could, without even noticing.


Without so much as a knock on the door or giving warning, Edwige barged in to find Fredrick stretched out on the bed, wearing a melancholy expression. With a smile, she threw a pair of gray coveralls at him, landing across his midsection. Sitting up, he looked them over, perplexed.

"You have two minutes to put those on," Edwige told him, "I will be waiting in the hallway. You may have to stay out of sight, but you can still be of some assistance to me."

And with that, she exited, closing the door behind her and without giving Fredrick the chance to say a word.


After cutting through an alleyway and making a turn, Shosanna came upon her destination: a small, unassuming bookstore, La Page Dorée. A bit bewildered, she consulted the instructions for confirmation:

La Page Dorée



It all seemed to stupidly easy that Shosanna could have thought of it as a set-up; but in her position - their position - she couldn't afford to be so suspicious.

Nor should you be so trusting.

Taking a breath, Shosanna cautiously made her way to the back of the building, and raising her fist - teeth clenching, heart racing - she knocked with all of the strength she could muster.

A moment passed.

Panic set in.

Her thoughts were plagued with imagery of Fredrick being taken into custody by the Resistance; armed men storming into their room, killing him without a second thought, without warning, all while under the watchful eye of Edwige.

But just as rapidly as such thoughts came, they went, as the heavy door swung open. There, standing before her, was a stunning, dark skinned woman; tall, willowy, she was dressed all in black - turtleneck and slacks - complete with a black beret, her raven hair flowing down to her shoulders. Her eyes, brown and feline, were fixed upon Shosanna. The Jewish girl wasted no time.


The dark woman cocked her head to the side, as if appraising Shosanna.

"Oui," she verified.

Producing the roll of film, money, and written instructions from her pocket, she handed them to Simone, her voice firm,


With a nod of her head, Simone snatched them from her hand, quickly eyeing them over.

"She said that if the payment proved insufficient - "

Simone looked up, silencing Shosanna.

"As long as you give me a little bit of time, there will be no issue."

Shosanna swallowed.

"How much time?"

Simone arched a brow.

"You will still be here come tomorrow, won't you?"

Calming somewhat, Shosanna nodded.

"Oui, I will be."

Reading over the papers, Simone smiled.

"And he, too?"

Shosanna did not hesitate,

"Oui. He, too."



This was not quite what Fredrick was expecting - helping the inn proprietor re-arrange the furniture in her room - but it was a most welcome distraction. Throughout the process, more and more of the older woman's personality shone through, even if the task at hand reminded him of something his sister Gerda would have him do; but, it was in that familiarity that Fredrick found comfort.

"Now, this trunk was my grandmother's. She was a delightfully eccentric woman in her old age."

Pushing it across the floor, Fredrick found himself entertained by all of the history, the details, of every piece of furniture, every bauble, every memento that Edwige more than willingly divulged.

It made him think of home, of his sisters, of how he longed to be back in Munich, to have Shosanna with him; among them.

As Edwige prattled on, Fredrick could not help but smile.


Making her way back from La Page Dorée, all Shosanna wanted was to return to Le Rossignol, to Fredrick. However, as she passed by a men's clothing boutique, Shosanna slowed her stride and came to a stop; with her hands in her pockets, she thumbed over the bills he had given her.

Whatever is necessary.

Looking over the slacks and dress shirts on display in the storefront window, she knew just what to do with the money.

And, God willing, there would be enough left over for a pack of cigarettes.


As she moved a rack of dresses aside, Edwige stilled; Fredrick, busy with an amoire, took notice. Fixated upon a silver beaded evening dress, she spoke, her voice wavering,

"This was from Ada."

Then, looking up at him,

"Madame Mimieux."

Edwige gave a small sigh as she ran her fingertips over the garment.

Not wanting to pry, but his curiosity getting the better of him, Fredrick cleared his throat and asked,

"You and Ada were - ?"

Not even giving him a glance, her attention on the dress, Edwige nodded.

"Oui. Ada and I were lovers."

Nervously, he pushed back his rogue forelocks and looked away.


Then, suddenly, the room filled with rich laughter.

"My dear boy," Edwige gasped, "you are so preciously, inoffensively innocent."

Sheepishly, Fredrick raised his face, a blush rising to his cheeks, voice stammering,

"I - I did not mean to - "

Edwige continued to laugh, and waved her hand dismissively.

"Non, non, Fredrick, it's no bother at all. It's just that, you have so much to learn about the world; so much to experience."

Taking a moment to compose herself, Edwige placed her hands on her hips, her voice more gentle,

"And to think of that - I don't know whether to laugh or to cry."


Shosanna purchased a new pair of slacks for Fredrick - black and finely tailored - and not knowing his measurements, she had to estimate; fortunately, the clerk was more than patient with her. Along with that, she picked out two dress shirts, one white and the other a light tan. And, luckily, there was just enough for her only personal purchase: a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches. They weren't her preferred brand, but Shosanna knew well enough that when fortune smiled down upon one as much as it did to Shosanna and Fredrick, that one takes what they are offered without complaint.

The clothes were folded and wrapped up in a rectangular, burgundy box, which was now tucked beneath her arm. With her free hand, Shosanna placed a cigarette between her lips as she wrangled with the matchbook. She was alert enough to stay out of the way of the other passerby, but her struggle to free a match proved to be a challenge.


Distracted, Shosanna collided with another, the box slipping out from under her arm. Straightening herself, Shosanna apologized profusely,

"I am so sorry, I - "

Her voice dropped off.


It could have been viewed as a coincidence, but for Shosanna, the universe was playing a cruel joke.

Moving fast enough, he was able to catch the box before it could hit the ground; the box which held the clothes she had just bought for Fredrick. She took it from Marcel dumbly, the cigarette dangling from her lips now falling loose.

He was stiff, his voice flat.



Taking a break from their work, Fredrick and Edwige sat at the oval table, now at the opposite end of the room, drinking tea and talking. He wanted to know about Ada, about Edwige, and her work with the Resistance. She was more than happy to comply, as she had never had such an attentive audience before.

"Her parents came from Hong Kong. We met when we were both in our twenties, in 1923; it was a bit of a whirlwind and lasted for two years. She was a passionate woman, quite generous."

Refilling her cup, Edwige grinned at Fredrick's reaction, who appeared a bit flustered.

"Of course, I am referring to more than just the physical."

Drinking a sip of tea, she took a moment to herself, a distant look in her eyes.

"She and I remained good friends, but with the mounting political and social unrest followed by the occupation, I saw less and less of her. Ada felt, as a woman of her heritage, it would be easier to stay out of sight, out of mind."

Fredrick was now even more intrigued.

"So what motivated you to get involved?"

"Well, as you can see - " Edwige gestured to herself - "I am certainly not what one of those diseased minds would refer to as an undesirable. By not using my position of privilege, how could I have lived with myself? There were others, I knew, who felt the same as I did. Together, we became our own little band of outsiders, assisting the Resistance and others who were fighting for the same cause, those who held the same convictions."

He now leaned in forward, eyes wide and voice filled with awe,

"How did you ever outwit the Gestapo?"

Edwige chuckled.

"I'm of no interest to them; there are prettier young things around here that held their attention."

Then, taking another sip of tea, she gave it a little more thought and a quirk of the lips.

"Besides, they're not as clever as they think they are."


The two former lovers were now at odds with each other.

Her voice was weak.

"How did you survive?"

His was not.

"The same as you."

There was nowhere private left for them to speak, and so now, the former projectionist and theater proprietor were seated on the patio of a cafe; neither touching the tea in front of them.

Marcel was resolute.

"I saw you with him."

Her head dizzy, Shosanna raised her shaking hand and took a drag from her cigarette. She was aware that words were insufficient.

Marcel was steadfast.

"Do you love him?"

His voice did not hold anger as much as it did hurt, and, to a certain degree, resignation.

She knew that any attempt to argue would be futile. She would let him have this; he had a right to his emotions.

Her voice clear, yet faltering, Shosanna strained to make eye contact.

"Marcel, it is nothing to do with you. It's complicated, it's - "

He was now incredulous, his voice growing louder,

"Nothing to do with me? After all I had done for you? Everything we had planned? All we've been through? You leave me for him and you tell me it has nothing to do with me?"

Shosanna wanted - needed - to rectify the situation and Marcel needed to know the truth.

He deserves that much.

"I could not have ever anticipated any of this, Marcel. It was his love of cinema that drew him to me, and oui, an initial attraction, but there was something more to it. Did you know that he has family back in Munich? That they run a theater of their own? Did you know that I remind him of his oldest sister, Helga? That he liked the fact that I did not know of his status, his fame?"

Marcel was not quite following, but he was listening; he was always willing to offer her that much.

Emboldened, her hands clutching at the burgundy box in her lap, Shosanna moved forward in her seat.

"You see, Marcel, you and the rest of the public did not know. No one knew, except me. I am the only one he trusted enough to be so open with; to be himself. And when it came down to it, I couldn't kill him, not after all of that; not after knowing all that I knew. I realized, all too suddenly, that I - "

As the force of it all hit her, Shosanna slumped back.

She could not acknowledge it, not yet.

But it was evident in her body language, it was present within her eyes.

"It was gradual, though unexpected. I suppose the turning point was the moment I understood I could trust him, and that he was willing to risk everything, all for my sake."

Shosanna sighed and ground out her cigarette into the smooth, polished surface of the table, marring it with ash.

Marcel too, fell silent; defeated.

Reaching for her pack of cigarettes, Shosanna offered him one.

He accepted.


Fredrick was thoroughly impressed with Edwige, though it was evident that he had something on his mind.

"How was it, then, do you think Shosanna was led here?"

A small smile came to Edwige's lips as a look of fond recollection came over her.

"To many, Ada was a cold and harsh woman, when the truth was that she was anything but. That fact is apparent to me, to you, and especially to Shosanna. As I began my work with the Resistance, Ada was withdrawing herself from this world, trading it in for the lull of escapism. Before we regrettably lost touch with one another, I made certain to let her know that Le Rossignol was open for all who sought its sanctuary. Though she remained apolitical out of fear, it seems that Ada still saw fit to do her part."

Now wistful, she chose her words with consideration.

"There exists in this world, a certain type of person, Fredrick. Someone who lives their entire life guarded, building barriers. For one reason or another, the universe sees to it that we cross paths with such people. Now, being able to know such a person can be difficult, even trying, as they put their trust in a very select few."

Folding her hands on the table, Edwige angled toward Fredrick almost conspiratorially, her tone was reflective,

"It's not a matter of breaking through to them, it's a matter of them letting you in."

Pulling back in her seat, the two shared a knowing look.

Edwige then stood to clear the table, with Fredrick rising to aid her. Without another word, they went to work cleaning up; an almost imperceptible smile upon the young man's lips.


The two were now walking down the street, side-by-side; Marcel felt the need - the want - to accompany her back to Le Rossignol.

"Can he love Shosanna Dreyfus as he loved Emmanuelle Mimieux?"

He was not intending to be cruel or derisive; he was genuinely concerned.

Shosanna held the box in her arms, close to her chest.

"Oui," her voice was insistent, yet small.

Despite their disquiet, neither could bring themselves to feel any resentment towards one another; there was far too much history between them to disregard.

Their discussion - far from a confrontation - was circular. Marcel would question her, though he was hesitant of her responses, and Shosanna would reply bluntly; this would be followed by a lapse in conversation, only to start all over again. It was like wandering through a fog, leaving them both in a haze.

Coming upon Le Rossignol, they found themselves at an impasse.

Shosanna now looked to Marcel, her eyes trained on his.

"I was so very willing to sacrifice everything, to destroy myself, if necessary. I am just now finally seeing the value of life, even in the face of adversity, of tragedy."

Hugging the box tighter to herself, her voice came out as a plea,

"I am not asking that you forgive me, I am not seeking absolution. But whether you believe me or not, I want you to know - in all honesty - that I would not have made it this far without you. He gave me my revenge, but you were there with me to see it through. A part of me will always love you, Marcel; you must know that."

With a mournful expression, he brought his hands up to cradle her face, his voice tremulous,

"Oui, Shosanna."

She tried to muster a smile, but could not. Timidly, she wondered,

"What now?"

For the last time, Marcel gave Shosanna a smile, albeit forlornly. He answered her, with finality,

"We live our lives."

He then withdrew from her, simply bidding her,


Shosanna stood motionless, watching Marcel until he disappeared from sight.

At long last, she too, was able to turn away; to face all that awaited her.


In a daze, Shosanna made her way back to the room she shared with Fredrick. Her hand on the doorknob, she pled with herself not to come undone. Hastily, she entered the room, closing the door behind her, ready to face him; upon doing so, Shosanna's breath caught in her throat.

Fredrick stood beside the bed, his back to her. He was barefoot and wore only his uniform slacks and white undershirt; the shirt which so strikingly showcased his broad shoulders, the curves of his biceps, and nearly every hard line of his torso. As Fredrick turned to her, his face lit up.


The adoration he held within her name unraveled her; there was a joyous relief behind it, a desire.

He smelled vaguely of sweat, his hair was tousled, and in his hands were a pair of coveralls. Looking down at them, then back at her, Fredrick gave a smile and an explanation,

"Madame Molyneux required a bit of help with the re-arranging of every piece of furniture in her room. And…"

His voice trailed off, and with a shrug, he modestly added,

"…I was the only one physically capable of stepping up to the task."

Shosanna, still unmoving, could not find her voice. Fredrick, fortunately, was more than happy to carry on,

"I was getting ready to have a bath just as you came in, because, as you can see, I'm a bit of a mess. You might not want to get too close, but - "

He then bent forward, brushing his lips over her cheek.

" - I am not certain I am able to resist," Fredrick finished, the warmth of his breath against her skin sending a shiver down Shosanna's back. Her mind screaming for a reprieve, she forced space between them and braced herself.

Bewildered, Fredrick looked her over, a trace of hurt in his eyes; he did not understand. Keeping him back at arms length, Shosanna offered him the burgundy box; Fredrick readily accepted it. Standing sideways at the bed, he took care with opening the box, his eyes marveling at what she had brought him.
Recovering, Fredrick half-smiled.

"I trust then, that everything went well?"

Arms crossed over her chest, Shosanna nodded, managing a simple,


Something was amiss.


Her mouth set in a thin line and jaw clenched, she was unresponsive; her eyes were to the floorboards.

Brows stitched together, Fredrick kept his distance and tried once more, his voice bolder, urgent,


Her body sinking back against the door, she brought her hands up to her face, and then pushed them back up into her hair. Shosanna declared wearily,

"I am exhausted."

Bringing his body to rest against the bed post, his hands in his pockets, Fredrick gave a sigh.

"It has not been easy for any of us, Shosanna."

Her arms fell limp at her sides, and pulling her eyes to the ceiling, Shosanna's voice came out in a near sob,

"I figured that I could live through the pain; I could drift in and out of each day living by a structured, precise routine. I had my shelter and someone who cared for me. It was as safe and as normal as I could pretend to be. It was no way to live, but it was tolerable."

He did not entirely comprehend, but he wanted to make sense of it. His voice was small, cracked,

"What do you mean?"

Straightening herself, Shosanna squeezed her eyes shut and covered her mouth with her hand, trying to piece herself together. Regaining control of herself – just barely - she clasped her hands in front of herself and looked to him.

"On my way back here, I had a run-in with Marcel."

Concerned, Fredrick now stood tall, his brow creased.

"Your projectionist?"

She was now barely keeping her composure.

"Oui. He was also my lover."

Fredrick was rendered speechless, but Shosanna was unrelenting,

"He was the only man I loved, the only person I trusted."

Even though his heart was breaking, she persevered, an edge to her voice,

"But you ruined it; you ruined it with your good nature and your charm. You had to be so open and kind to me, you had to tell me all about your sisters in Munich. You had to stand apart from the others. And most of all, you had to love me."

His body sagging, Fredrick sat down on the bed. Clutching at his hands, he raised his eyes to meet hers.

"Tell me now," he begged of her earnestly, "where is my fault in loving you?"

Eliminating the space she put between them, Shosanna now stood before Fredrick; her arms at her sides, her hands in fists. Even as her body trembled, she spoke with determination.

"My family and I were forced from our home, our farm, and into hiding. My entire family was murdered; I bore witness to it. Only through what I can attribute to divine intervention did I survive, making my way to Paris. I stole, I begged, and I lied; I slept on rooftops. By the time you were in that bell-tower in Italy, I had lost Madame Mimieux and I was living my life as Emmanuelle Mimieux. During that time, the anguish I had felt had dulled, the nightmares faded."

Shosanna took in a breath, her resolve weakening and her voice quaking,

"You made me realize that everything I tried so hard in vain to bury was still there, still sharp; every desire, all of the sorrow, the overwhelming rage. And now, Fredrick, I am terrified. I am terrified because I don't know what's going to happen next. I am terrified of what I feel."

She then came closer, taking his face in her hands.

"It was that moment in the restaurant," Shosanna's voice was soft, awed as she recalled the memory, "that was when I knew I could trust you. That was the beginning… of everything."

The way she looked up to him that day - her wide eyes pleading with him - was always there, in the back of his mind. Fredrick had immediately sensed her discomfort, her distress, as Landa was a man who was particularly adept at putting people ill-at-ease; but to now make the connection between the Jew Hunter and Shosanna made his heart sink.

"I - I am sorry, Shosanna," Fredrick apologized, his voice choked with emotion, "if only I had known. I would
have - "

Gently, she pressed her fingertips against his lips, silencing him.

"You gave me my revenge."

Bending forward, Shosanna then replaced her fingertips with her mouth, kissing him. Fredrick rested his hands on her waist and gripped momentarily, fracturing her attention. He then glided down to her hips, pulling her as close to him as possible; in return, Shosanna eased her body against his. Putting one hand on his shoulder for leverage, she cradled the back of his head with the other, deepening their kiss; Shosanna covered Fredrick's mouth with hers, filling it with her tongue, sliding it over his.

Their senses heightened as they remained entirely focused on the other, both amazed by each other and the fact their emotions could so completely engulf them. One fact registered clearly for Shosanna: she offered, and he was taking. It seemed apparent, however, that nothing could ever be enough for them, that they would always want, need everything from the other.

Both were in complete agreement of this.

Reassured he was taking the road she'd wish to take, Fredrick brazenly grasped her thigh with one hand and with the other cupping her ass, he lifted her up; with Shosanna pushing against him, they fell back on the bed. She then drew back from the kiss, and looking into his eyes, she studied his face. Shosanna could see the anticipation; Fredrick, too, could read her thoughts so easily, could see the flare of expectation that flamed in her eyes.

Shosanna settled back down onto him, claiming his mouth with hers once more, tracing her fingers over his chest, feeling the flesh through the thin cotton barrier, and feeling the muscle shifting beneath her touch. Fredrick's hands drifted lower, to the skirt of her dress, and drew it up to her hips, his fingertips skimming the bare flesh of her thighs along the way. Shosanna trailed kisses along his jaw line as she pressed her body tighter to him, relishing the feel of his hardness against her.

She wanted him, and he wanted her. That seemed totally right.

As she nuzzled his neck, Fredrick whispered against her skin,

"Je t'aime, Shosanna."

She stilled in his arms.

There was an abrupt change in mood, as the time for such things had now passed.

Shutting his eyes, Fredrick took in a harsh breath.

He knew Shosanna was not yet ready to even say the words, but he could no longer hold back.

Relaxing, she laid her head on his chest as Fredrick wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to him.

Then, ever so faintly, he felt it; he felt as Shosanna smiled against him. She then drew back from Fredrick - he had to let her - and propped herself up on his chest with her elbows. From beneath her long lashes, Shosanna met his gaze; one glance at her face and at the expression which lit her eyes, and he was lost.

Words were not necessary.

Grasping his face in her hands, Shosanna kissed him ardently; she sank into his mouth and his lips parted, welcomed. She stretched her body over his, her thighs on either side of Fredrick, pinning him to the mattress. He threaded his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head, with his other hand pressing palm flat on her lower back.

For long moments, Shosanna simply indulged, reveling in Fredrick's clear encouragement, in the honest passion that was so much a part of him. It was demanding, tender, and deliberate. There was no haste in their contact, no dire need for a physical desire to be fulfilled; it was just the want, the need for emotional intimacy.

They were all that the other wanted, all that they could ever need, and all that they had left.

It was more than enough.

où: HOME.
se sentent: tired
( Post a new comment )
[identity profile] piecesofalice.livejournal.com on March 16th, 2010 09:49 am (UTC)
To quote my Mr. Workman: "you don't just want to break me/you want to tear me apart". <3

"I have to, Shosanna. For us both."

"I have to, Fredrick. For us both."

Killed me. Dead and good. I loved the interactions with Edwige, I loved seeing Fredrick act his age and be comfortable. It made me grin, much like when Shosanna laughed.

And the Marcel scenes were perfect - they hemmed up loose threads and brought the gravity of the current situation and how they escaped to the forefront and dealt with it beautifully.


http://suspiriorum.livejournal.com/: I close my eyes and I drift away[identity profile] suspiriorum.livejournal.com on March 16th, 2010 07:31 pm (UTC)
Aw, goodness. As I continue this fic, I get more and more into it, especially with handling the development of their relationship (which takes a steady hand and a level head to write), so seeing that you're just as enthusiastic is wonderful.

I still have to practice a level of restraint, but after what they've been through, Fredrick would be ready and willing to express how he feels for her, even if she can't quite acknowledge it yet. I love writing Edwige, which is kind of ridiculous as she's mine and all, but I want her to be able to fit into their world without intruding, allowing her to interact with Fredrick and Shosanna without forcing anything.

With as serious as the situation is - they are all they have left - and having to now face his actions in Italy - Fredrick is becoming protective of what he has with Shosanna. I enjoy exploring that mature side of him, the side of him that is influenced by Helga, the side of him that doesn't want to be like his father.

I was especially careful with the Marcel scenes and I like how they came out. Referencing that scene in the film, she tells him he's the only person she trusts, but we know that wasn't true; to have her tell him of her trust in Fredrick is how he knows that part of their lives has ended. As much as I LOL MARCEL, I have to treat the situation with respect (unlike other fic I've found wherein she completely disregards what Marcel feels).

[identity profile] parisiannymph.livejournal.com on April 9th, 2010 09:43 pm (UTC)
hi there. i'm fairly new to this fandom and i'm loving the ship of zoller/shoshanna so i've been an avid reader of your fics this past week. can't wait to read the next chapter!
http://suspiriorum.livejournal.com/: Acting on your best behaviour[identity profile] suspiriorum.livejournal.com on April 10th, 2010 05:02 am (UTC)

Thank you ♥ I'm working on the next chapter, which I hope to get posted soon. I greatly appreciate your readership, as I love writing Shosanna/Fredrick for myself and the enjoyment of others.

Also, I love your icon!
(Anonymous) on March 16th, 2010 08:18 pm (UTC)
Aww, lovely. Glad that she's starting to open up a bit more to Fredrick, and that pesky Marcel is now out of the picture. Can't wait to read more- don't leave so long between posts!
http://suspiriorum.livejournal.com/[identity profile] suspiriorum.livejournal.com on March 17th, 2010 01:52 am (UTC)
Thank you ♥

Shosanna's getting there, that's for certain. Since this is an AU and her realization of her feelings for him happened in the projection booth in the film, I've found it best to ease her into it. Their shared tragedies are definitely going to continue to help them along.

Writing the Marcel scenes wasn't easy, as I don't hide the fact that I don't like him, so I had to set that aside to give him and Shosanna a proper goodbye so they could both move on.

I won't now. I have the storyline and direction mapped out in my head and in notes, but getting Shosanna and Fredrick to this point has been a challenge as I had to tackle those emotional confrontations and set up OCs and plot points without hindering the story. But now I'm at the point in the fic where it'll get to the parts I'm really enthusiastic about writing, as it'll be focused on Shosanna, Fredrick, his family, and his background.
[identity profile] delarges.livejournal.com on March 20th, 2010 05:51 am (UTC)

Nervously, he pushed back his rogue forelocks and looked away.


FRED I LOVE YOU AND YOUR AKWARDNESS. AND THIS!! His body sagging, Fredrick sat down on the bed. Clutching at his hands, he raised his eyes to meet hers.

"Tell me now," he begged of her earnestly, "where is my fault in loving you?"


And I'm loving Edwige btw. Bicth is awesome.
http://suspiriorum.livejournal.com/: Why the want for all that I can't touch[identity profile] suspiriorum.livejournal.com on March 20th, 2010 10:59 pm (UTC)
I'm glad you're enjoying it, and Edwige. I normally don't like the idea of clogging up stories with OCs, but Fred and Sho can't get out of France by themselves.

I love awkward Fred ♥ And of course he'd feel awkward about prying into someone's personal life, which I couldn't resist writing.

I have no idea, really. All I know is that one moment I'm enjoying IB in the theater, and the next thing I know, I'm writing fanfic.

And I'm loving Edwige btw. Bicth is awesome.
Middle-aged French women know how to get shit done.

Edited 2010-03-20 11:42 pm (UTC)
[identity profile] sweet-iolanthe.livejournal.com on May 21st, 2010 04:53 am (UTC)
Oh, wow. I was not expecting her to meet with Marcel. But I think it did provide the closure they needed.
Ada was a fox, I see ;)

Hahah. This is brilliant!
http://suspiriorum.livejournal.com/: Heaven is the whole of the heart[identity profile] suspiriorum.livejournal.com on May 21st, 2010 06:43 am (UTC)
I felt it was best to wrap up that loose end, as it would also help for her relationship with Fredrick to move forward for part 6 and onward. Ada totally was, especially as she was played by Maggie Cheung, and I admit, I'm a bit enamored with her.

Thank you! This was the kind of fic I wanted to read after seeing IB, but it became quickly evident that no one else in the fandom was going to write it and continuing KFAD was my chance to make that happen. Now I'm grateful that I'm the one to write it, as I'm extremely particular as to how they're both portrayed (which is good since I'm the only one who has been consistently writing them in the fandom since the film came out).